


Crushed

by the_angry_pixie



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bev develops a crush, F/F, F/M, Jealousy, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, what happens when the OT7 gets rocked to their core??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 12:17:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21338122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_angry_pixie/pseuds/the_angry_pixie
Summary: They were hers and she was theirs. They were all bound to each other in some weird cosmic agreement that was bigger than any of them.Soulmates, some might call them.Bev was one of those someone’s.So it just didn’t make sense that Bev now found herself sitting there, in her sewing room (also a combination studio with Bill and study for Ben) bouncing her knee up and down and feeling a nervous swirl of anxiety and excitement in her belly as she waited for her guest to arrive.
Relationships: Beverly Marsh/Original Female Character(s), Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon/Ben Hanscom/Eddie Kaspbrak/Beverly Marsh/Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris, Poly Losers Club - Relationship, The Losers Club/The Losers Club (IT)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 57
Collections: Poly Losers Club Fic Exchange





	Crushed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inoubliable](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inoubliable/gifts).

> My contribution to the Poly Losers Club Fic Exchange. Written for hanscom on tumblr.

Beverly had never meant to develop a crush. She really, truly hadn’t.

Given where she was in her life, given who she shared her life with, it wasn’t uncommon for Beverly to find herself thinking she must be one of the luckiest girls in the world.

She was happy. She had a roof over her head, food in the fridge and she never experienced that gut-wrenching worry about the rent being late. She was studying a course that she actually really loved. She never seemed to want for money, earning enough to have some savings AND spend a little on herself now and then.

Further to that she was surrounded by love. And that was probably the real magic in all this, at least according to Beverly’s musings to herself (they happened often – she was a girl given to daydreaming). Love. Affection. Devotion. Passion. They were her secret sauce if you will.

You see Beverly had not just one boyfriend. Not even two. Beverly had SIX boyfriends.

She loved them and they all loved her.

She had stopped questioning it or wondering what it all meant a long time ago. They were hers and she was theirs. They were all bound to each other in some weird cosmic agreement that was bigger than any of them.

Soulmates, some might call them.

Bev was one of those someone’s.

So it just didn’t make sense that Bev now found herself sitting there, in her sewing room (also a combination studio with Bill and study for Ben) bouncing her knee up and down and feeling a nervous swirl of anxiety and excitement in her belly as she waited for her guest to arrive.

Emilia wasn’t the only model that Bev used for her online store. In the past she had used about 3 or 4 different freelance models. That, and of course all of her beautiful boys (and not just because they worked for free or for kisses). But Bev didn’t make clothes and jewellery just for males and so at some point, she had been forced to fire up her search engine and start looking for female models.

Without a doubt though, Emilia had somehow become Bev’s favourite.

She just loved the way the clothes she designed sat on Emilia’s body. The way the delicate jewellery looked against her warm toned skin.

Emilia was what some industry people would call “plus sized” (_i__diots, _according to Bev). She was average height with light brown skin and lovely long black hair. Her family was from the Dominican Republic Emilia had once mentioned as Beverly had caught herself gushing about how the light was making the other young woman's complexion glow.

“Thank my Abuela. She was the _real _beauty” she’d said and Beverly had smiled.

Of course Bev had always known that she was attracted to women. She’d known she was bisexual since around the age of 13 or 14.

There had even been a girl in Portland. A girl she’d shared a shy kiss with at a lake party one hot summer evening before she had moved back to Derry.

But you see, then she had started dating Ben almost immediately upon returning to Derry. Beautiful Ben. Lovely Ben. The man it felt like Beverly had been waiting for her whole short life. The man she could finally feel safe with.

And then, sometime in their late teens, it had just felt natural for them to open their relationship up to the rest of the Loser’s Club. It had felt right.

And that’s just how it had been since then.

And Bev, well most of the time she didn’t look back. It wasn’t her style. She liked to keep things moving forward.

But sometimes, just sometimes… she wondered what it would be like. To be with a woman, that is.

She’d feel horrible for feeling it afterwards. Like she was playing right into some awful bi-phobic stereotype.

_Oh you’re bisexual so you’ll never be satisfied unless you have BOTH. _

_Oh you’re bisexual. You’ll never be satisfied **full stop**._

_Greedy bitch. SLUT. Indecisive whore. You’re bound to cheat. You’re **going **to cheat._

The castigations swam round and round inside her mind like particularly cruel fish. And yet, despite it all,the feelings remained. They grew.

Emilia was beautiful and smart and funny and Beverly had a crush and she was _**determined**_ not to do anything about it.

She couldn’t. She was in a committed relationship. And that’s all there was to it.

That was the end of it.

Bev nodded to herself putting a mental bookend on _those_ particular thoughts as she skipped a bit too quickly to the front door when she heard the knocking.

* * *

But that wasn’t the end of it. Because Bev wasn’t the only one who noticed the certain particular way she would look at her favourite clothes model.

Stan had met Emilia a few times in passing.

Afterall, Bev _was_ borrowing his camera for her photo shoots whenever they happened. Further to that Stan had always had an interest in fashion. The way colours and shapes could fit a body and somehow elevate it. He was one of Beverly’s biggest cheerleaders. He had even been the one to convince her to sell her designs online. First her jewellery, then her clothes. It wasn’t uncommon for him to make time to help Bev with her shoots.

So sure, he’d met Emilia. Even talked to her now and then.

And Stan was observant. Always had been.

He’d seen the chemistry building.

Bev was naturally flirtatious, it was just one part of her unwitting charm. Not so much with men. Their Bev was downright _guarded_ when it came to interacting with men who were outside their relationship.

But women? That was a completely different story. Bev was _more_ than capable of turning her smile to full wattage for a beautiful woman. Stan had witnessed it many times.

But there was something different happening here. Something in the way Bev's rosebud lips would purse sometimes when Emilia would say something wry and silly. The pretty way her cheeks would peach up when Emilia would push her hair back from her face with such an alluring ease and fix her warm brown gaze on the camera lense.

Stan had watched enough America’s Next Top Model to know the look-down-and-then-look-up technique. Apparently it was new to Bev though, given the way her breath would sometimes hitch when Emilia would do it.

This was more than a cute, harmless flirtation with some barista or shop assistant.

This was something else.

And maybe most concerning of all, was **not** the fact that Stan’s girlfriend was very obviously attracted to someone outside of their (albeit unorthodox) relationship… the thing that stuck in Stan’s mind and just would not leave… was the fact that Emilia seemed to very much _return_ the attraction.

The Losers didn’t tend to have many friends outside of their close-nit group. It wasn’t like it was a rule, just the way things tended to work out. Sure, they might have a few work colleagues they got along with, maybe some casual college friends that they would always try and get grouped with on projects. But no _really_ _close_ ties. And they would never _dream_ of sharing the true nature of their relationship with those casual acquaintances. The world was just not ready. Maybe it never would be. But that didn’t matter. It was none of their business anyway.

So really, it wasn’t Emilia’s fault that she was so easily being ensnared by Beverly’s tinkling laugh, syrupy sweet personality, devastatingly ethereal looks, cutting wit and cute-as-a-button smile. These were all things that had ensnared Stan too. Had ensnared all six of the boys to be honest. Right back from when they were tweens.

And it wasn’t like Beverly had been like _“oh hey these aren’t __my __roommates, well they ARE __my __roommates but we totally all love each other and have sex with each other too. Hold that pose please. __Swish the skirt a little more.__”_

No, Bev wouldn’t have told someone like Emilia how deep the love of the Losers Club really ran. So really, Stan couldn’t blame Emilia for being pulled in by all the very same things that Stan himself had been pulled in by.

It was certainly something that gave him pause.

* * *

“Do you know Emilia?”

Bill looked up from where he was tucked into the corner of the old couch that was squashed into a corner of his studio.

“Who’s Emilia?”

He returned his attention almost immediately to his charcoals and sketchpad. Stan cradled his cup of tea closer to his body and watched him.

“One-of-Bev’s-clothing-models Emilia...” he added.

“Is she the one with the dimples and curly brown hair?”

Stan hmm’ed his affirmation instead of answering. It captured Bill’s curiosity.

“What about her?” he lifted one of his eyebrows as he fixed his blue gaze on the young man across from him.

“Bev likes her.” It was stated plainly. A simple declaration of fact.

It caused Bill to chuckle. “Well I should hope so. Though...” he paused, scratching his nose with his thumb. “I guess you don’t necessarily have to _like_ someone for them to look good in clothes.”

“No Bev _really_ likes her.”

The levity dropped from Bill’s demeanour immediately upon seeing the serious way Stan appeared to be clenching his jaw, his fingers stiff around the mug that hovered near his face.

“W-what?” Bill questioned.

“I think Bev might have a crush on her. Like really, really like her.” Despite the neutrality to Stan’s tone, Bill could tell that he was deeply displeased. He didn’t like to show it, but Bill knew that Stan felt and experienced things profoundly.

“What makes you say that?” Bill scooched closer across the couch, setting his sketchpad aside to focus his full attention on the young man in front of him.

Stan shrugged one of his shoulders only the slightest bit.

“Just a feeling I have. You’d see it too if you ever saw them together.”

Bill found his eyes travelling to land on Beverly’s corner of the room. The table with her sewing machine. The boxes with all her different fabrics. The sewing mannequin with the measuring tape draped around it's neck.

“Maybe it's not serious. Maybe you’re making it a bigger thing that it really is.”

“They’re on a date right now.” Stan said simply.

_“What?!”_ Bill looked to Stan his eyes stricken. He could see his own discontent mirrored in the clench of Stan’s jaw. The rubbing of his free hand back and forth across his collarbone.

“They’re getting coffee together right now. I saw them leave.”

“That doesn’t m-mean anything. Th-th-that could be nothing!” Damn. Bill hated it when his stutter came back these days. It happened so infrequently. Only when he was stressed or feeling highly emotive.

Stan, who had previously been staring off into the middle distance finally looked to Bill. Saw how he was now so close that their folded knees were knocking together. He reached forward and grasped one of Bill’s hands, squeezing it slowly.

“Two people who are attracted to each other going out alone together to share a beverage. That’s not nothing. That’s something. Even if Bev isn’t willing to admit it right now. And it's not the first time they’ve done it either.”

Bill felt like hundreds of little pin-pricks were needling all over his lungs. They felt hot, the air suddenly too hard and too far away to grasp at. It _hurt_. He didn’t like it.

“W-we… we should talk to the others...”

* * *

“I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit!” Eddie’s tone was so elevated, it could almost be called a screech.

“It’s not about what _we_ like Eddie. It’s about what makes Beverly happy.” Mike’s attempt at calm, placating words fell on deaf ears.

“It is _too_ about us! We’re the ones in a fucking relationship with her! Of course it’s our business if she’s cheating on us!”

Eddie was freaking out. Bill had expected it, and yet was somehow wholly unprepared for it.

“Hey now! Nobody’s cheating on anyone. That’s not what we’re saying,” he tried to reason.

“Well then what the fuck _are _you saying Bill?! Just what the fuck are we meant to do with this information?!” Bill was afraid Eddie would fall right off the couch he was currently sat on the edge of. It would definitely happen if the gestures and arm flails he was throwing in Bill’s direction got anymore violent.

“Just what w-we’re doing now. Talk about it. See if there is anything we w-w-_want_ to do about it. I don't like it just as much as you Ed.” Bill kept his voice on the cusp of quiet. Historically he’d found that when Eddie (or any of his partners for that matter) went barrelling in one emotional direction, it was better to try and maintain balance by taking a few steps yourself in the opposite direction.

“You’re damn right I don’t like it!” Eddie finished as he threw himself back into the couch with crossed arms and a severely heated expression.

Bill sighed internally and swung his eyes around the room, an attempt at gauging what everyone was thinking. Stan, Eddie and Richie were currently occupying one of the couches. Ben and Mike were seated in the other with Bill perched on the arm of it. It had been some weird sort of serendipity that at the conclusion of his and Stan’s conversation, 4 out of 5 of their partners had just _happened _to be sitting out in their living room. Almost like they had been waiting for them. A ridiculous notion really. But scarily convenient.

As he surveyed everyone, Bill was startled to realise that Ben hadn’t said anything since he and Stan had entered the room and informed them of what they had been discussing. Out of _all of them_, he probably knew Bev best. So it was strange that he hadn't spoken yet.

“What about you Ben? You’ve been awful quiet. What do you think?” Bill looked to large man next to him.

Ben looked up at him with sombre eyes for only a brief moment before returning to looking at his hands in his lap. “I… I don’t know what I think” he murmured. “I just want Bev to be happy. I thought we made her happy…” So much uncertainty poured into just a few syllables. It was simply heartbreaking to listen to.

“I don’t think it’s something that we’re_ not_ doing bud” Mike’s kind voice responded as he reached out to rub Ben’s arm comfortingly. “I think sometimes these things just happen. They’re not in our control. I mean… look at us…” At this he looked up at all of them. “To most, what we’re doing here in this house is an abomination. And yet here we are…”

Bill nodded in agreement. Trying to lend his silent support to one of the few people in this room who didn’t seem to be sending angry, psychic daggers in his direction.

“That’s _bullshit_ Mike.”

Ah. Speaking of anger._ Player Richie has just entered the game_. It had only been a matter of time.

Richie was looking around at them all wildly. “I mean, is _nobody_ else going to acknowledge the big fucking elephant in the room…?? Just me? Ok I’ll do it. What does this chick have that we don’t have? That’s right; **Tits** and **Vag**! So obviously it _**is**_about what she can give Bev that we can’t.”

“Nice Richie. Real mature” Stan offered dryly from his spot on the end of the couch. He hadn’t really made eye contact with anyone since sitting down. Only offering a few nods when Bill would look to him to clarify something as he explained the situation.

“Oh fuck off Stanley I’m allowed to be fucking angry here! I feel fucking awful. Like one of my vital organs is being ripped out of my body. And just because you have a better poker face than me doesn’t mean that you aren’t feeling it too!”

Stan appeared to be ignoring the glare that Richie was directing at him, choosing instead to pick at something under one of his nails.

“Guys lets not fight...” Ben pleaded quietly and Bill took the opportunity to springboard off the tender request.

“Yeah we’re not getting anywhere by just yelling at each other” he tried to infuse it as much as he could with that elusive authority that all his partners insisted he had.

“Well then what do_ you_ think Bill?” Richie snapped harshly, his bespectacled gaze rounding on him. “C’mon you’re meant to be the _Big Man with a Plan_. What do _you_ think about Beverly jonesing for someone else?”

Bill paused, running over his own introspection in his mind. Hoping he could find the right words. Hoping that they wouldn’t jumble as they travelled from his brain to his mouth and then trip sloppily off his tongue.

“I’m hurt…”

“I knew it!”

“Shut up for a second Richie” It was a struggle, but Bill somehow managed to keep his voice calm. “Just shut the f-f-fuck up and listen. I’m hurt… but I… this might s-sound crazy but I almost feel bad… like guilty.”

“What do you mean Bill?” Eddie’s small face was so earnest as he looked up in Bill's direction that he almost wanted to die rather than upset him any further.

“Well think about it…” he began slowly, carefully. “… Mike, Richie, Stan… we all identify as bisexual right…? And over the years we’ve been able to explore our sexuality right…? We’re lucky. The nature of our relationship allows us to be with b-both men and women. We get to have that…” Bill could tell they weren’t really understanding where he was going with this. He steeled himself. This was where things would get messy. “We get to have that but Bev… Bev doesn’t. And she n-never will. She’ll never get to… to experience that part of her sexuality. It doesn’t seem f-fair somehow. Like- like we’re keeping her from something…”

“But Bill…” and Ben’s quiet voice hitched at this, “… I thought-- I thought it wasn’t about being with _men _or _women_. It was about being with _us_. Being with Richie. Being with Eddie. Bev, Stan, Mike… me…”

“You’re right Ben. You’re _so_ _right” _Bill leaned over to kiss the side of his tawny head lovingly. “But it doesn’t change the fact that for some of us, we have an option. Bev doesn’t. All I’m saying is m-m-maybe we should… m-maybe we should give her that option…”

“What are you saying Bill?” Stan stated flatly. Deathly still. He was looking at Bill now. As though his eyes were challenging him to just go ahead and speak plainly. It was such a Stan thing to do.

“I’m saying that if Bev wants to be with this girl – date her, have s-sex with her, whatever… if she wants to… if she wants to… I don’t know, _see_ if that is something that she even w-wants… we should let her at least… _try_” he finished, his voice less sturdy than he would have wanted. But at least it was out there now.

Silence fell over the room. The tension was reaching critical levels. Eyes darting everywhere as every individual let Bill’s suggestion sink in.

The obnoxious sound of Richie sucking his teeth eventually cut through the stillness.

“This is going to fucking change everything.”

Stan’s head fell into his hands, fingers clenching in his hair. He had… _issues_… with change. They all knew it. The rest of them were all still in their own little worlds, staring off into space. Except Eddie and Ben, whose gazes were fixed on Bill, as though imploring their leader to disagree. But he couldn’t lie. The stakes were too high.

“It p-p-probably will.”

More silence.

“I don’t want things to change. I-I don’t want Bev to leave” Eddie sniffed in a wet voice.

Ben moaned. It appeared Eddie’s notion had caused him to reach his limit. His eyes closing and face screwed up in what looked like pain. Mike folded his arm around him, allowing him to hide his teary eyes in his chest.

Richie was doing much the same to try to comfort Eddie. Bill saw the way he tightened his arm protectively around the sobbing man as Bill approached and knelt down on the floor in front of him.

“Beverly’s not leaving. _She’s not_ Eds” Bill layered his voice with as much confidence as he could muster as he clutched at Eddie’s knees. “W-w-we’re just saying we should be open to Bev having this option… if she wants it.”

This didn’t seem to comfort Eddie at all. And Richie continued to death-stare Bill over the smaller man’s shaking form.

“Guys I don’t know how comfortable I feel about making these decisions on Bev’s behalf” Mike murmured from the other couch, prompting them to look around. “Like, shouldn’t she have a say?”

“She _will_ have a say. That’s what Bill’s saying” Stan didn’t look up, speaking directly to his knees. His voice low and serious as it so often was. “It will be her decision,” finally, his hazel eyes rose to survey the room. Taking in each individual. “But she won’t make it on her own. She has to know that we’re behind her, whatever she decides. We have to all agree or this won’t work.”

“A-are… are you saying that _you_ agree Stan?” Bill questioned cautiously.

Stan clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth back and forth a few times. The lines between his eyebrows giving away the depth of his thoughts. Finally, he responded.

“I hate it with all my soul. It makes me want to set things on fire just thinking about it. But I agree. Bev should at least have the option to experience being with a woman if that’s what she wants.”

“Well I’m not agreeing to shit!” Richie’s slightly nasally voice exploded as he stood from the couch, succumbing to the need to pace back and forth it appeared. Bill could see his fingers fluttering over his various pockets. Unconsciously seeking out that nicotine fix. “This is stupid!” he continued just as passionately. Funnelling all his anger towards Bill. “What you’re saying is stupid. Why would I agree to one of the loves of my life being with someone else?!”

“Because it’s what you do every day. Bev’s with all of us is she not?” Mike’s gentle voice slipped forth from where he was craning his neck backwards to watch Richie’s progress from one end of the room to the other.

Richie was thoroughly worked up by now though and was evidently taking no prisoners. “That’s_ different_ Mikey and you know it!” He practically shouted, pointing his finger as though it would lend weight to his argument.

Mike of course, didn’t rise to meet him. Didn’t rise at all in fact. “You’re right Richie. I know it. But I still love Bev enough to give her the choice.”

Richie scoffed at him throwing his arms up and continued his brooding pace. He knew there was no use arguing with Mike. He was just too sincere and accepting. It was what they all loved about him.

_Three down_, Bill thought. _Three to go._

“Ben…?” he prompted softly.

Ben raised his head from where it had remained hidden against Mike’s chest this whole time. His eyes were red and his cheeks were flushed. He looked miserable. It hurt everyone so much to see someone they loved look so desolate.

“I just want Bev to be happy…” is all he said, before burying his face back against Mike. It was answer enough.

“Eddie…?” Bill rubbed his hands against the smaller man’s legs again. Although his tears had now dried up, it did nothing to lessen the dejection so plain to see on Eddie's face.

“I-I don’t know” he responded meekly, his eyes only for Bill. “It just feels so wrong. Maybe that’s selfish of me. I don’t care. I love Bev. I don’t want her with anyone but us!”

“_What?!”_

It was almost audible how fast everyone’s heads whipped around at the new voice in the room.

They’d all been so focused on Eddie that they hadn’t even noticed the figure standing in the doorway.

Bev stood there. Jean shorts and floral tank. Long hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun. Her usual brown combat boots were no doubt sitting on the shoe-rack by the front door, allowing her to make such a silent entrance.

They looked at her with varying stages of gobsmacked expressions.

“What did you say Eddie?” Bev’s voice was low with a slight quaver to it.

“Bev...” Bill started, but it was like he didn’t know where to go from there. His mind had gone blank. Radio silence. Static screen.

“What are you all talking about?!” the timbre of Bev’s voice rose with every word. “Fucking tell me!”

Bev was slowly taking in the faces around her. Some with tear stains, some with obvious marks of stress, some even looked scared. A chill began to creep up her spine. Something foreboding. Icky and uncomfortable. Nothing good was about to happen.

“Bev” Mike unfolded himself from the couch and slowly approached. “We know about Emilia.”

“W-what about her?” Bev backed away from the outstretched hand that was reaching towards her.

She never took her eyes off them. They beared witness to the flush that was quickly taking over her face and neck.

“We know about your little _clandestine coffee dates_ Red.” Richie’s tone was undeniably sharp. Meant to find it's target and pierce. Meant to _wound_.

“_Richie_” Mikes voice was low and warning before turning back to the woman still in the doorway. “It’s ok Bev. We’re not mad” his voice undeniably softer as he tried again to walk towards her.

Bev once again danced around and away from him. Twitching like a cornered rabbit.

“What are you talking about. That wasn’t-- that wasn’t-- I mean she just _asked me_. What was I supposed to say? It doesn’t matter. It's nothing. I don’t-- I don’t even--”

“--We _know_ Bev” and the annoyance was not masked in Stan’s voice. “We know how you feel about her. Just-- _stop_. We fucking know.”

By now they could see something had begun to glisten in Bev’s eyes. She looked scared to Bill. So scared.

He looked around at the scene that he had practically created. This was not going how he had wanted. He had wanted… he didn’t quite know what he had wanted. He just knew that he had never meant for poor Bev to feel attacked like this.

“Bev...” Bill found himself standing. Approaching her. Her eyes darted to him. Then to the others. Then back to where Mike had hung back. He could practically feel her assessing her options. Looking for an escape path. The thought hurt his soul.  
  


“Bev…” in his quietest, most gentle voice. “Just please… just come sit. I promise…” he didn’t really know what he was promising. That he’ll protect her? From them? Bev had _never _needed protecting from the Losers. The thought was _absurd._

He cleared his throat. A little surprised to feel it was scratchy. Like how it burned when he was on the verge of crying. He swallowed a few times and tried again. Just as slowly. Just as carefully.

“I promise… we aren’t mad. Just come sit. Talk. Tell us what you’re feeli-- what’s going on for you. We want to-- to help. To understand.”

He’d been inching forward with every word. And finally on the breath of his last assurance his fingertips touched her slender wrist. She flinched, but she didn’t move away. Her head had been tilted to the ground and she kept it that way as he slipped his fingers among hers. Allowed him to gently guide her over to the floor in front of the couches. Set her down on a cushion and sat by her side. He didn’t want this to be a jury questioning a defendant. She didn’t deserve that. So he stayed by her side and stared imploringly at the others.

_Be kind_ he tried to say with his eyes. _No matter how much you’re hurting please be kind. _

Bill then looked back to Bev. Her face was still looking towards her lap and he could see a perfect tear hanging off the end of her freckled nose.

He reached forward and wiped it off. In his periphery he saw Mike return to sit on the couch next to Ben. All eyes were on them.

“It’s ok” he repeated as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You shouldn’t feel bad.”

“It’s just a crush” she murmured, so hushed it was almost like it was for her ears only. “It doesn’t mean anything, it’s just a-- just a crush...”

“Yeah, no Red. I’m not buying” Richie’s voice carried from where he had situated himself in the furthest corner he could get. Spindly arms crossed and expression harsh. “If it was just a crush you wouldn’t be crying. You would be telling us to fuck off and laughing about it. No it's not just a crush. _Them’s tears of guilt m’love_.”

Bill really couldn’t be bothered with acknowledging Richie’s barbs right now. He was looking at Bev and was probably the only one who saw the way her face crumpled before she hid it in her hands. Loud sobs beginning to bubble through her fingers. God this was torture to watch.

“I’m sorry” Bev choked out through her hands. “I didn’t mean to it just… it crept up on me. I didn’t _do anything_. I wouldn’t. I _won’t!_”

“Shh it's ok darlin’ it's ok” Mike’s broad arm tucked around Bev’s shoulders from her other side. Mike had a magical way of moving silently and quickly whenever one of his partners was in pain and Bill was thankful for that magic right now.

For a moment, the room fell back into tense silence. The occasional sob from Bev and whispered comfort from Mike the only sounds. Again everyone was looking at each other. Trying to gauge what they were all feeling. What was going to happen now.

Finally it was Eddie who broke the heavy silence. “But you want to don’t you Bev.” The shaking woman looked up at him with watery eyes. Eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

To his credit Eddie managed to keep his voice pretty even. Holding the emotion that had burst out of him so severely earlier at bay for the sake of the clearly distressed woman in front of him. “You said you didn’t do anything. But you want to don’t you?”

Bev shook her head violently.

“That doesn’t matter. I won’t.”

“But what if you could” Richie’s voice was still accusing, but had lost a bit of it's bite. Perhaps dulled by the sight of his partner clearly in so much pain. Now it was more like he was trying to work out a particularly frustrating puzzle. “If there were no consequences, no thoughts in your head but slaking your own curiosity then you would wouldn’t you. Cause you dig her. I mean like you’re _attracted_ to her.”

“That doesn’t _matter_ Richie. It doesn’t matter because I don’t want to. I _can’t_.”

“What if we said you could?” Bill stated plainly.

“What?”

“What if we didn’t mind?” Bill grasped Beverly’s hand and squeezed it, trying to pulse reassurance into her through touch alone. She just stared at him wide-eyed. Her mouth dropping open as though trying to form words but failing.

“I-I don’t understand...”

“What Bill is skirting around is…” Stanley sounded sombre but resolute, determined. “What if we all agreed that exploring your sexuality is valid. You like girls. You like this _particular_ girl. So what if we all said… go for it. See what happens. It’s only logical.”

“_No!” _Bev practically spat the word. “I say no! Fuck that Stan. You’re telling me to cheat. I’m not doing that!”

“It’s not cheating if we all say it's not cheating Bev” Mike reasoned gently.

“I don’t care what you all _say_ I’m not doing it!” Bev was shrugging out of Mike’s hold and throwing Bill’s hand aside.

“Bev...”

“No stop it Bill!” her slight figure whirled on him as she stood up. All fire and fury in her eyes. “Stop it with your _honeyed words_ and _silly promises_. I don’t care what you _think_ I want. You’re asking me to do something that I _just can’t do!_ I love you guys. That’s all there is. I don’t _need_ anything else. I’m not willing to ruin something so beautifully perfect over some hot girl with sparkling eyes. A dorky laugh and magnetic personality is just not worth it.”

“Bev, love...”

She hadn’t seen Ben approach. Nobody had really. So focused on the ferocious whirlwind that was their beloved girlfriend.

Bev turned to him and seemed to collapse under his familiar gaze. She fell against his chest and he let her. Wrapping her in his arms.

“It’s not worth it Benny” she cried, clutching at his shirt covered chest. “It’s not, it’s not, it’s not. It’s just a stupid crush. It’s stupid. It’s not worth it--”

“--Bev.” Ben’s voice was small but sure as he lifted her chin with one of his fingers. Giving her no option but to look into his eyes - so kind, so loving it was impossible to look away.

“It’s not a stupid crush” he stated. His hand moving swiftly to place placating fingers over Bev’s mouth as she made to protest once again. “It’s not a stupid crush” he reiterated firmly “and you’re not stupid for having it. You’re… you’re perfect. And we love you.”

He gently swayed them from side to side, as though taking up a dance that only they were privy to. Bev appeared to be without words to respond with so she remained silent. Captured in the sunbeam of Ben’s beautiful eyes.

“This” he continued, “It’s just another part of you. And you shouldn’t have to ignore it. We understand that. Because it’s just who you are and we love you just the way you are. So don’t feel bad, don’t feel guilt, don’t feel any of that. Just do what feels right.”

He kissed her cheek, and removed his fingers from her lips so he could brush them over her hair.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone though...” Bev’s eyes were dry but she still sounded so uncertain. So unlike the strong, fierce woman they all knew so well.

“You aren’t hurting us” Eddie’s voice slipped in over her shoulder. A hand slid to tuck into the small of her back as Eddie added himself to their embrace, Ben’s arm easily moving to accommodate his slight form. He was looking at her with all the encouragement he could possibly offer. “You aren’t because it’s like Ben said. This is just part of who you are and we love _all _of you Bev. And we know you love us.”

He pulled her close to tighten his hold on her, head on her shoulder and nose nuzzling into her neck.

Behind the trio, Bev didn’t see the hopeful expression that Bill directed at Mike at Eddie’s show of support.

From his position on the couch Stan’s lips quirked into a small smile as he saw the first hint of acceptance begin to dawn in Bev’s expression. She caught that smile gratefully as she glanced his way and sent him a tentative one in return.  
  


And for a moment, things were almost peaceful. As much as they could be.

But then, it was like they all collectively realised there was still one individual left in the room who had not given his blessing. All eyes fell on where Richie was still slouching in the corner.

His face was disgruntled, but mostly unreadable. Like he was still concentrating on something deep within his mind. He got like this sometimes. When he was in a particularly pensive mood. Disappearing somewhere deep inside the chaos of his mind to find the pearl of an answer that he was seeking.

Finally he looked up. Bev was still encased in Eddie and Ben’s embrace. Stan was off to the side rubbing his hands back and forth on his legs. A nervous tick of his. Bill was looking at him challengingly whilst Mike’s gaze was almost pleading.

And Bev, Richie couldn’t tell you in a million years what the look in Bev’s eyes might be asking of him.

He puffed air out of his mouth in a long sigh.

“Was Emilia the one who brought peanut butter cups in her purse after I mentioned that I liked them that time when I was helping with the lighting on a shoot?”

Bev’s lips curled into a small smile as she nodded ever-so-slightly.

Richie drummed his fingers a few times against his legs. “Well fuck. Why didn’t you say she was the hot one? Go for it Marshmallow.”

* * *

And so here Mike found himself. Sitting in a booth at their local tavern, surrounded by his friends and lovers and covertly watching Bev flirt with Emilia up at the bar.

The situation wasn’t ideal.

They hadn’t _meant_ to be witness to this. This had been supposed to be something that happened kind of… outside their knowledge. Away from their eyes. It just would’ve been easier.

On all of them.

But see the thing was, Bev had been dragging her feet.

After that highly emotional conversation had happened a few weeks ago... well, Bev maybe for the first time in her life, had turned shy.

Like she was too scared to make a move now that she had been ‘_given permission’_. Mike hated that phrase but had yet to come up with a better one in his mind.

Weeks had passed. Bev’s face had been beet red every time Emilia had come to the house. And Bev had made it a point to always have a second model along at all of the shoots she arranged after that.

It was pretty transparent what she was doing. She was trying to distance herself. Convince herself that she was fine. She was okay with the way things were.

Mike thought a part of her probably truly believed it too.

But now all the other Losers had been able to see what Stan had first noticed happening right under their noses.

Easy flirtation. That was the most accurate way Mike could think to describe it. It was just… easy.

Mike couldn’t blame Bev. Emilia was a really sweet girl. And stunning to boot. With her smooth, dusky skin and the sensuous curves that she carried so well.

If Mike weren’t thoroughly content in his current relationship he would have certainly taken an interest.

But as it stood, even though they had all been poking and prodding at Bev in their own singular ways, she had yet to ask Emilia out on an official date. Heck, even an unofficial date.

Mike himself had been witness to the sad lilt that had overtaken Emilia’s demeanour when her invitation of grabbing coffee had once again been rebuffed in the doorway of their house as she and Bev had said goodbye.

He’d remembered turning to Eddie who had been standing beside him in the kitchen at the time. They’d shared a baffled shrug.

“Ughhhhh this is baaaaad. I don’t like this. Why did I dooo thiiiiiis?”

Mike turned at the sound of Richie moaning into his Long Island Iced Tea. He looked thoroughly put out and there was no second guesses why. He was right of course. The reason Emilia was here in this bar at this very moment was entirely Richie’s doing.

He had been reluctantly helping Bev with a jewellery shoot today. Bev was especially fond of the way rings and bracelets looked on his slender fingers and wrists. And, he had informed them, he had once again endured the hopeful way Emilia had asked Bev if she wanted to grab coffee at the conclusion of the session. He’d later told them that he just couldn’t take it anymore. The ravenous, impulsive child that apparently was in charge of his brain just couldn’t take the poor girl being rejected again (his words, not Mike's).

“_Hey-why-don’t-you-come-out-for-drinks-with-us-all-tonight?!!”_

Stan had said he had heard Richie practically shouting the invitation even though he had been on the other side of the house.

And that had been that. Of course the young woman had accepted with excited glee. And had arrived looking gorgeous and smitten about an hour ago.

At first they had all sat together and the boys had been on their best behaviour. Trying to be welcoming. Trying to be inclusive. Trying to pretend that this wasn’t the most weird, fucked up setup in the history of ever. Like something straight out of The Twilight Zone.

They could all tell Bev was nervous. Her eyes kept darting around, almost like she expected cops to suddenly come barging through the door to arrest her at any moment.

But then.

_Oh but then_… Emilia and Bev had taken off to go to the ladies room and had… never quite made it back…

As much as Mike hated it, this made something in his stomach sink like a stone right to the bottom of a lake. Mike wasn’t a jealous guy by nature. Had never really felt it's impact on his life. At least, not with his partners.

And was that what this was?? Jealousy? He wasn’t quite sure. If you’d never had it, how could you be sure?

He just knew that something inside himself tightened every time he looked over at that bar. Something about seeing the coy smile on Bev’s rouged lips. The subtle way the two women occupied each others space. Mike had to continually take stock of his body to discover which muscles were clenched and then consciously relax them.

“She just ran a hand down her arm” Stan was not subtle about the way he was staring at the couple. He was the only one doing so. The others preferring to pretend they were not desperately hanging onto his every word of commentary.

“Who? E or B?” Eddie grumped, not looking up from where he was trying to make a card house using only coasters.

“Emilia. She pushed some hair over Bev’s shoulder and her hand lingered on her arm. Dammit she’s good.” He didn’t sound happy about it.

“That’s what we want Stan. We _want it_ to be going well between the two of them.” Bill didn’t sound even remotely convinced by his own words. Mike knew he and Ben were trying to ignore the whole situation by watching videos together on Ben’s phone.

Which left Stan to his snooping. And Mike… to his drinking. And his thinking.

“_Fuck._ Bev just did the lip thing.”

At this Richie whined again from where his head was laid against his arms on the table. Only emerging every now and then to take another long sip on his straw.

They all knew what the lip thing was. They all knew what it meant. Bev biting her lower lip and slowly releasing it only happened when--

“She wants to kiss her.” Ben stated plainly and without emotion. His eyes never leaving his phone.

“Excuse me, can we get another round of shots for the tabl—_O__y gevalt__!_”

Stanley’s exclamation grabbed the attention of everyone. They looked to where he seemed to be frozen in the act of tugging on a passing waiter’s sleeve. But following his eye line was where the_ real_ action was happening.

Like passing by a car crash, they all turned and looked, they couldn’t help it.

And so, they all caught the tail-end of the tender kiss that Emilia and Bev shared. It couldn’t have been a long one. But it was one of those sweet ones. Tentative, testing, almost playful. They were smiling at each other. Stars in their eyes and everything.

And Mike could almost feel the deflation of moods around him.

“M-make that t-t-tuh-fuck--TWO rounds please.” Bill directed towards the waiter as he nodded and wandered off.

“Oh my god...” Eddie repeated Stan’s sentiment, much quieter though.

“Keep it together guys. She might look over here.” Mike tried to lead by example even though his guts felt like they were doing somersaults right now.

But Bev, she wasn’t looking at them. Her eyes were fixed. Sparkling and timid and all things cute and gorgeous as she looked at the girl whose face was so close to her own.

Richie moaned again and buried his head in his arms.

And so they sat there and brooded. Nobody really felt like there was anything to say. Their girlfriend had just kissed someone else. And they had all agreed that they would be fine with it. But they weren’t feeling fine with it right now.

They were feeling downright _unfine_ with it.

And none of them could tell if that made them good people, or bad people. Good boyfriends. Or bad boyfriends. This was all happening too fast. Too fast. _Too, too fast._

Mike tried to think of something to say. Anything. Hadn’t he been one of the people who had been a very verbal supporter of this. He _should _have something to say. Instead he just felt numb.

The waiter came and delivered their shots but no one touched them. Leaving them to swarm like a flock of livestock in the middle of their table.

“Guys...” Mike finally admitted, “I don’t think I can do thi--”

“--Hey everyone!”

A petite hand landed on Mike’s shoulder as Bev swung into view.

He turned to see Emilia standing post behind her, an attractive flush adorning her round cheeks. Visible even in the low light.

“Um. Me and Emilia we’re… gonna head out…” Bev offered gingerly. They could all see that she was blushing to the roots of her hair.

It was like they were all frozen. Nobody knowing quite what to say or how to say it.

Bev laughed nervously, meeting the eyes of everyone in turn before they fell to the surface of the table.

“Oh shots! Great. We can have one for the road right?” she looked back at Emilia who nodded amiably. “Right!”

And that seemed to reanimate everyone as they all clumsily grabbed at the small glasses. The way they managed to clink their glasses together and throw them back without incident must have been muscle-memory alone. For they were all still suspended in this weird disbelief that this was really about to happen. Mike suspected that Bev might feel kind of the same.

It was obvious that Bev was still desperate to fill the awkward silence up, if her chirruping chatter was anything to go by. “Okay! Well bye guys! Don’t wait up for-- I mean uh. I’ll be home late. Okay. Okay. Bye. Lets go.”

It felt so unnatural. It was excruciating to watch and Mike felt his resolve harden. An insistence from somewhere deep inside himself to not allow things to be left like that. To give this girl that he adored the reassurance that she so clearly needed.

He turned in his booth seat and shouted after her retreating figure. “Bye Bev. _Love you_!”

His sudden outburst must have changed the tide as he heard similar exclamations from his other partners follow. He just kept his eyes on Bev though. Splendid Bev in her cute little swishy babydoll dress and well-worn brown combat boots. She really was a vision. Mike tried to take a photo within his mind. Somehow feeling like nothing would be the same after tonight.

They all saw as Bev looked back at them with a beautiful, shy smile, her expression so thankful as she gave a little wave before disappearing around the corner.

“So… _that’s _happening” Richie stated, his voice too worn to even fully commit to the insinuation.

“Yeah...” Bill added.

“You guys she’s not going to… like she wouldn’t go back to_ our _place would she?” Eddie sounded quite distressed by the notion.

“No. Bev wouldn’t do that. They’ll be going... to Emilia’s place most likely” Stan replied pragmatically, though Mike picked up on the quaver in his voice.

“Oh… good. That means we can go home soon.” Eddie mumbled, fiddling with his empty shot glass.

“I don’t want to go home. I want to drink.” Richie uttered with conviction.

“I second that” Ben responded grabbing two of the remaining shots for himself before throwing them both back one after the other.

“Third.”

“I change my mind. Fourth.”

“Fifth.”

“Shouldn’t we…?” Mike was unsure of what exactly he was trying to express in that moment. “Shouldn’t we talk about this more? I mean we’re all feeling some type of way right now...”

“What’s there to say Mikey?” Bill asserted. “We all know what we saw tonight. We all know what’s probably g-going to happen. And even though we all said we would be fine with it we all feel like utter crap about it. Which m-m-makes us all really cruddy and selfish boyfriends.”

Nobody questioned how Bill seemed to instinctively measure the exact weight of emotions they were all feeling within their circle. It was just something that had always been second nature to them. Not even worth an additional thought.

“So… I say we continue to drink and try and ignore all the utter sh-sh-shittiness of our situation right now.” Bill concluded with as much false bravado as he could muster.

Five different iterations of _‘Fuck_ _y__ea__h__!’_ rose up from the table in unison.

* * *

It was a half-baked idea. And it only ended up quarter-working. Nice one Bill.

Drink after drink slid down Richie’s throat to dance and play with all the other things that were currently roiling around in his stomach.

Jealousy. Uncertainty. Hope. Even a little bit of fear.

The best he could wish for is that maybe he wouldn’t see much of Bev over the next few days.

He wanted to be supportive, he really, really did. But this whole scenario had never felt quite right to Richie and he was truly scared that it never would.

Hopefully all he needed was time. Time for the idea to sink in. This had all happened so fast. Even for Richie (whose brain tended to run at 3x times the average speed anyway).

Time away, yes. Time away from Bev so he didn’t quite have to think about the particulars of what exactly was going on.  
  


Either way, upon finally managing to manhandle his way through the front door, Richie’s drunken personage couldn’t quite decide whether it was a blessing or a curse to find Bev sitting on the couch of their dark living room as all six of them stumbled in.

“Oh.” It was probably the most succinct thing Richie had said all week.

“What the fuck?” Stan’s manners and eloquence tended to disintegrate the more drunk he got.

But it had to be said, it summed up the feeling in the minds of the six of them pretty well, Richie thought.

“I know you’re shocked to see me here” Bev offered quietly.

“No shit. What happened?” Another zinger from Stan. Yowza, yowza.

“I um...” Beverly looked down to the grasped hands in her lap before meeting their eyes once again. “I couldn’t do it.”

“Bev, hun, what about--?”

“--No Bill let me explain. Come sit. Just listen.”

Frankly, they were all a bit too tipsy to argue. And so they all came. They all sat. Gathered around Bev like this was some fucking prayer circle or something.

Then Bev, lovely Bev, began to talk. And Richie tried to concentrate on what she was saying. Though some of the words ran together. But he tried.

“So we were in the cab right. And we were you know, driving to her place. And I was a little nervous and a little excited and was like, kind of really enjoying making out with her in the backseat.... but there was another part of me. It was like this other part was completely sober and just like, _watching_ me. Watching us as we kissed and drove along. And this other part of me was thinking about what was going to come next. I knew we were going to have sex. She’d whispered as much in my ear. Checking that I was into it. A part of me was _so _into it… but it was like… another even bigger part of me was just like _“NO NO NO STOP NO”_. And that part grew louder and louder as the minutes clicked by until it was practically all I could hear. By the time we were pulling up, my decision was clear to me. So clear. It's like what Ben said all those weeks ago. I had to do _what felt right._ And it wasn't this.... so I apologised. I think I even cried a little. I felt horrible for leading her on the way that I had. But in the end... I felt much better about wishing her goodnight and coming back here to you guys than anything else that could have happened tonight. Much better. I think it's the only thing I've been_ sure_ about these last few weeks. And so... here I am.”

“Maybe it was just cold feet. Maybe you just weren’t ready...” Ben suggested.

“Maybe” Bev nodded her head. “Probably. But you know what… and you guys can choose to doubt all you want. But a part of me thinks I won’t ever be quite _ready_. Cause like, I’m happy where I am. I don’t feel like I’m… _missing out _on anything really. Cause you, all of you, you’re all I’ve ever wanted and like, it's quite possible you’re all I’ll ever need. I love you so much.”

With every word it was like a kernel of warmth inside Richie’s chest was being lovingly tended to. Growing and growing. Sizzling and fizzing.

“And like, I just love you even more for what you’ve been doing for me these past weeks” Beverly croaked, her voice full of emotion as they could see tears gathering in her eyes. “I know it's been hard. You guys are terrible liars. But I love you even more for trying. And like, I know that if something happens one day to maybe… change my opinion on things, I know I can come to you without fear of judgement. And that feeling of security, that unconditional love? Well it's just about the most precious gift you could give me.”

That was it. The kernel had exploded into deliciously warm popcorn. And not just one. Dozens of them. _Hundreds_. Their heat travelled up Richie's throat and felt like it was filling up his mouth, just begging to spill forth.

Richie stood from his position on the floor, his long legs allowing him to step right over the coffee table that separated him from Bev with ease. It took a bit of doing but eventually he was able to squish his legs down in the tight space at Bev’s feet so that he was kneeling face to face with her.

As his hands came up to cup either side of her unearthly beautiful face he wished his brains would supply him with poetry as wonderful as what he had just heard.

Instead, his thumbs brushing back and forth across her cheekbones and his face split wide in a grin, all that came out was “Marsh Monster...” followed by a lingering and passionate kiss. He couldn’t stop himself. He was just so full of love for the woman in front of him that he just _had to_ express it. Pepper it all over her face. Her lips, her cheeks, her nose, her forehead and her perfect, perfect chin. He felt her giggling against him. But he didn’t stop until he heard some whiney grumbling from beside him and so he reluctantly pulled back with a smug grin.

It was Eddie who jumped in next with his own fierce hug that clutched in her hair as he delivered his own kisses.

Then Mike from her other side. His kiss a bit more gentle but no less insistent.  
  


Ben and Stan next from where they had crept up to stand behind her on the couch. Two perfect upsidedown kisses placed on her forehead that made her eyes close in bliss and a warm smile adorn her features.

Then Bill ruining the moment by throwing himself across the couch and the laps of his lovers in his own drunken gesture of affection. It involved a lot of nuzzling into Bev’s stomach and complaining from Eddie.

But it had them all laughing.

And just like that, a feeling of contentment that had been absent for so long settled over the room despite the giddy drunkeness. Or maybe, Richie mused, because of it.

“I love you. I love you all so much.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well then... there you go. I will leave it up to y'all to imagine whoever you want to say those last lines. The theme of this story was obviously jealousy. I hope I have done the prompt justice and that it was realistic enough. Please let me know what you thought and thank you so much for reading. :)
> 
> Here I am on [tumblr](http://the-angry-pixie.tumblr.com/) and [here](https://poly-losers-club.tumblr.com) is the Poly-Losers blog I run.


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